Song of Courage, Song of Valor
by Faeruy
Summary: For Acherubis's iPod Shuffle Challenge on the Dragon Age Writer's Corner and the Dragon Age Fanfiction Writer's group on Facebook. 10 random songs. 10 random stories. Rated T to be on the safe side
1. Beyond the Sea

_This is for the iPod-Shuffle Challenge. The first song that came up was Beyond the Sea (Bobby Darrin), and of course I immediately thought of Isabela. Once again, as always, I own nothing, not the characters, not the song, nada. Bioware built the sandbox I play in, and All That Jazz (hmm... I wonder if that song's going to pop up. Who knows, it just might!)_

* * *

Isabela looked out over the sea. From where she was standing, she could see Kirkwall, though only as a small strip of land in the distance. The Tome in her arms weighed heavy.

She should be much further away by now. It was stupid of her to have stopped so close to Kirkwall, what with the Qunari relic in her possession and so many people who either wanted it, or wanted her dead. It wasn't safe here. Yet, she couldn't find the will to leave. She felt rooted to the spot on the shore, staring at the place that had been her home for the past couple of years. Not that it had ever been much of a home; only a single, underfurnished room, and a tavern to drink in. Nothing like the _Siren's Call; _nothing like the majesty and freedom of her ship on the high seas. There was nobody like her old crew, the hard-working, hard-partying men who lived and died for her. In Kirkwall, there was only Hawke's friends, and a full half of them despised her.

They probably despised her more after what she just pulled.

Her arms began to ache. She looked down at the relic she risked everything for. And why? Because it could make her rich? Most assuredly, and yet a part of her wanted to throw it into the sea, get rid of it for good. It wouldn't stop the Qunari from punishing her if they ever caught her. Which seemed more and more likely the longer she stayed here.

What was she waiting for? What did she expect to see?

Nothing. What could she expect? The Qunari didn't yet know that she had the Tome, the people she stole it from were dead, and Diana Hawke didn't know where she had gone and lacked a ship to find her anyway.

And that was her problem. Diana Hawke. The only true friend she had in Kirkwall. Well, more than friend, if she was to be perfectly honest. There had been that one night, that one fantastic night. Isabela had to go and fuck that up, though. First by making things awkward, and then by running off with the relic. There was still... something between them, though. Even with all her running, she couldn't deny that.

She wondered what Hawke was doing now. Was she busy trying to save the city still? Or was she, like Isabela, standing on the shore with her boots sinking deeper and deeper into the wet sand, searching for something she had only the smallest hope of ever seeing? Was she waiting for Isabela to come back and do the right thing? Was she hoping for something more, another night like that last one?

Isabela imagined herself going back. Returning to Kirkwall with the Tome of Koslun, and presenting it to Diana. She imagined Diana putting the relic aside, gathering Isabela into her arms and kissing her. She imagined the world disappearing around them.

She looked down at the dead weight in her hands and laughed. It wouldn't be like that. She knew it. Most likely Hawke would be pissed, after everything the pirate wench had done. Chances were that Hawke would take the relic, give it to the Qunai, and refuse to speak to Isabela ever again. That seemed much more likely. Still, the dream was nice.

She thought about her other option. Running, forever, from the Qunari. She could fence the relic, get a new ship and be rich forever. But she would still always be running from the Qunari. A couple of years ago that prospect didn't seem so bad; after all, she had always been running. But a couple of years in Kirkwall, a couple of years in the company of Diana; who somehow managed to be sexy, funny, irreverent and mercenary and yet still find it in her heart to save the whole Maker-damned city from itself, that had changed Isabela. Finding a ship, continuing to run, it didn't seem so important anymore.

Damn her. Damn her to the furthest reaches of the Void. Isabela knew why she was stuck. She couldn't leave. She couldn't run anymore. She had to go back. Back to Diana Hawke. Even if it meant she never got her ship, never felt the trade winds whipping across her face, she had to go back. Do the right thing.

And maybe, just maybe, Diana wouldn't totally hate her forever.

The Qunari relic still felt like a burden in her arms, but one that she could manage now.


	2. I'm Yours

_**A/N: **Well, this one turned out much longer than I expected. So the song for this one was** Jason Mraz's "I'm Yours"**, which when I heard it, just screamed Alistair. And no, this has nothing in common at all with any of the conversations that happen in-game. But where's the fun in repeating stuff you've already heard anyway? I just hoped I captured his voice alright. So yeah, Alistair, and my female Dalish Warden. Cheers!_

* * *

He had decided. Tonight was the night. He wasn't going to wait any longer. No time like the present and all that. After all, the Blight was upon them; who knew how much time they actually had? They could both be killed tomorrow. He rather hoped not, but given the way they lived it was a definite possibility. Alistair had made up his mind.

Tonight was the night he would become a man and tell Faleni Mahariel that he... liked her.

He was ready.

The Grey Warden marched over to Faleni's tent and rapped on the flap. He stood straight and tall, trying to look as manly and impressive as possible. He held his breath and waited. And waited. Faleni didn't come out.

Maybe she didn't here him. He rapped again; still no answer.

"Faleni?" He queried.

"Yes?"

Alistair yelped and jumped nearly ten feet in the air, an impressive feat considering he was wearing full plate metal still. He whirled around to find the redheaded elf standing behind him, a confused and curious look in her large blue eyes. No wonder she hadn't come out of her tent. She wasn't in it to begin with.

"Uh...umm..." He stammered unable to form a coherent thought now that she was standing in front of him. He couldn't help it. The slight tilt of her head and the tug at the corner of her lips. The way her curly hair refused to stay bound; little frizzy tendrils falling in front of her eyes like pure copper wire. The way that she stood; strong, confident, alert. The way she looked at him; as if she was trying to figure out if all humans were weird or if was just him. Andraste, help him.

"Did you need me for something?" She asked when it looked like he about to choke to death trying to get out something other than 'um'.

"I..." He needed her for everything. "I... umm... yes! Well, no, not exactly. I don't actually need you... I mean... it's more like I want... I mean... umm... can I... talk to you? In private?" The more he babbled the higher his voice got, to the point where the final 'private' came out as little more than a squeak. Faleni looked at him oddly, but nodded. They stood awkwardly for a moment before Alistair realized that he was blocking the entrance to her tent. He grinned, glad of the dark to hide his burning cheeks, and ducked inside. Faleni followed him inside, lighting the lantern in the corner before taking a seat on the ground. He noticed how smoothly she folded into a cross-legged position whereas he, who had to bend nearly in half just to get inside was stuck clumsily plopping down across from her.

"Well. This is nice and... cozy. Not exactly what I imagined. Not that I imagined what the inside of your tent looked like, exactly, but y'know, one gets bored, and all sorts of strange thoughts start popping into your head. Or I don't know... maybe they aren't so strange. But y'know, I always figured, a Dalish elf; probably lots of furs and weird... elvish... things. Runes perhaps? But this looks exactly like my tent. Well, maybe not exactly not like mine, I tend to get crumbs in the sleeping roll, but pretty close." He was babbling again. What was worse was that she didn't try to stop him. He paused, out of breath and for the moment out of words. A long moment of silence passed between them as Faleni waited for him to continue.

"I'm sorry." She finally said when the moment had stretched on too long. "I'm confused. Did you wish to speak to me about the contents of my tent? Or was there something else?"

"Right! Yes. There was something. A... ah... I had a question." He grinned triumphantly, pleased that he had managed to get that much out. Faleni raised an eyebrow, somewhat less impressed by his ability to put together a meaningful sentence.

"Go on..."

"Um..." Alistair's whole face scrunched up as he tried to think of a question. "Have you ever..."

"Have I ever what?"

"Have you ever... umm... thought about... umm..." He paused again, now entirely certain that this was not the way he wanted to go about declaring his feelings. "Actually, let me start over. Can I tell you a story?"

"A story?" Faleni's eyelids fluttered rapidly, trying to catch up to Alistair's train of thought and failing miserably. "Is Leliana giving you minstrel lessons, now?" She held up a hand as Alistair started to open his mouth. "Actually, don't answer that. Go ahead, tell your story. I'm all ears." She grinned and winked, and Alistair couldn't help but chuckle. It was one of the things he loved about her; not many other elves would make stupid jokes about the size of their ears.

"Right. My story. Now bear with me, because unfortunately for you, I have _not_ been studying with Leliana, so I fear this will fare very poorly in comparison. So, I was washing up in the river the other day..."

"You wash?"

"Hey, hey, hey! Unfair! I'll have you know that I'm a very clean person. If Barkspawn isn't around to lick the blood off, I make sure I get a halfway decent splashing at least once a month. Anyway, the fact that I was washing at all is not the point of the story, so if I may continue without further smart remarks from you...?" He glared at the elf, who merely snorted derisively.

"Close enough. So there I was in the river, and as one occasionally does, I was looking at my reflection. And I have to say, it wasn't bad. I thought to myself; 'Well, there's a halfway decent looking fellow.' Which is not usually something I say about myself, for I am exceedingly modest. Right, so just then a fish jumped up and slapped me in the face." Alistair could see that Faleni was extremely skeptical about this, and he felt the need to defend his honor. "I swear, it's the truth! Just jumped right up and hit me with it's tail. Slippery bugger, was back in the water and swimming away before I could catch it. But that's not the point. No, the point is that after the fish swam away, I looked back down in the water, and my reflection was all wobbly. Y'know, from the ripples. Because water isn't really very much like glass at all, and even the slightest movement..."

"I know how water works, Alistair."

"Right. Anyway, at first I was sad, because that fish had gone and ruined everything. But the longer I stared at the ripples, I realized that it wasn't true. I was still there after all. My reflection was still there, it was just different. Which then made me think about time and getting older and change and things like that. I mean, it's the same thing. I'll always be me. I won't always look the same, but I'll still be me. And that's pretty neat, right? And that got me to thinking about you, actually. You'll still be you. Even when you get old, and start turning into a darkspawn or whatever, you'll still be you and no fish in the water can ruin that and that's kind of amazing. Because you're amazing."

Faleni's eyes flew wide open, and she stared at Alistair in an unnerving manner. He found himself fidgeting under her gaze.

"I'm what?" She made it sound like he had insulted her.

"Umm... amazing?" He winced, prepared for her to throw something at him. Not that there was anything to throw in the tent, but he had always heard that angry women had a tendency to throw things. "Look, what I'm saying is that... well... I think you're amazing. And gorgeous and perfect. And that no matter what happens, no matter how things change, I'll always be able to look beyond the ripples, beyond the weird things and still see the amazing and gorgeous and perfect person that you are. And I was thinking, well, wondering, well, hoping, that maybe... maybe you felt the same way about me?" He winced again, hardly daring to look at Faleni. A long, awkward, tense moment of silence passed.

"Soo..." Faleni drawled, finally.

"Yeah?"

"That story..."

"Uh-huh?"

"That weirdly bizarre and inane story..."

"Right...?" Alistair wasn't entirely sure where she was heading, and a part of him was certain that he wouldn't like it.

"Is your way of asking me if I like you?"

"Well... in a manner of speaking... yes."

"You're an idiot." Alistair felt his heart sink. Of course. There was too much going against them; he was a human, she was an elf. He was a bastard prince, she was a creature of the wild. They were both Grey Wardens, there was the large chance both of them were going to die. Oh well, at least he didn't chicken out. At least he had gotten his feelings off of his chest. Faleni wasn't finished speaking though.

"We've been flirting for weeks, or at least I have. I don't know what you were doing if you weren't. 'Have you ever licked a lamppost in winter?'" The elf snorted indelicately. "Every night we set up camp, I set up my tent next to yours which, coincidentally, gives me a really good excuse to sit next to you during dinner. You're the only person I ask to go with me _every_ time I go anywhere. And I defend you to Morrigan. I've dropped more hints than halla drop dung, and still you waste time telling me this ridiculous, complicated story about rivers and fish and ripples just to ask if I'm attracted to you? Are all humans so blind? Fen'harel!" She exclaimed, and scooted up to her knees, putting her face within a few inches of his. Alistair didn't dare breathe, afraid that if he moved even just a muscle, the vision in front of him would disappear and he'd find himself alone.

"Open your eyes wider moron. Of course I like you. I'm yours." The Dalish girl smiled and brought her lips to his. They were warm and soft and very, very real. He took her arms, pulling her closer to him. It felt like fate.


	3. Rolling in the Deep

_**A/N: **Man, I was so excited when this song came up. **Rolling in the Deep by Adele.**_ _One of my favorite songs. And so many ways for it to play within the DA universe. Though really, only one location where it makes total sense. So Faleni Mahariel and friends, in the Deep Roads._

* * *

The longer she was down here, the worse it got. Now she was dreaming of the Archdemon nightly; from the moment she closed her eyes to the moment she woke up, it was there calling to her. She felt as if she was starting to figure out what it was saying, though her rational mind denied that possibility. There was the small part of her that wanted to answer it's call, wanted to understand it. That scared her more than anything else, enough that she could barely sleep at all. She definitely couldn't sleep alone.

Faleni hated to admit it, but it was part of the reason she had taken up with Zevran, down here in the Deep Roads. The Deep Roads were dangerous; too dangerous and it would have been beyond stupid to risk the lives of both Grey Wardens. Though Alistair argued otherwise, Faleni knew that when push came to shove she was the more expendable of the two; so it was that she was down here and Alistair was left behind. Right when she needed him most. Though it was likely if she was going crazy down here, he would have as well, so it was probably for the best. It still didn't alleviate her need, however, and Zevran had proved to be willing and pleasant company. He helped distract her when she couldn't sleep and held her when she could. Being around another elf, even a flat-ear, made her feel almost at home. There were things she kept from him, however, like the exact nature of her nightmares and the tainted part of her soul that wanted nothing more than run towards the source.

It was difficult for Faleni to know how long they had been down in the Roads; dwarfs kept time differently than surface people did, something about the rhythm of the Stone, and for all Faleni knew it could have been months. It certainly felt that way at times. Not being able to the sky or the sun was unnerving, even without the nightmares. Morrigan was faring little better than she and really only Oghren seemed truly comfortable, although that may have been because he was perpetually drunk.

"_First day, they come and catch everyone."_

"What was that?" Faleni heard something, she knew it. It gave her the feeling of a song she once heard in a dream.

"What was what?" asked Zevran.

"Nothing..." If Zevran didn't hear it, then she must have imagined it.

"_Second day, they beat us and eat some for meat."_

"Wait, there it is again!" Faleni pointed further down the tunnel. "It's coming from over there!" Oghren and Morrigan looked skeptical, but Zevran appeared to be concentrating.

"_Third day, the men are all gnawed on again."_

"I hear it!" Zevran exclaimed.

"So do I." Morrigan did not seem as enthused about what she was hearing. But Faleni had stopped paying attention. She was moving forward, drawn in by the haunting words echoing through the Roads. The voice was leading her somewhere important, she knew it. She fingered her talisman, the amulet containing the blood she drank to become a Grey Warden. A reminder of the promise of sacrifice. A traitorous part of her mind asked; who was she sacrificing herself for? Were they worth it? Wouldn't it be easier just to end it all and embrace the dark? She didn't like the tenor of her thoughts.

"Faleni?" A voice echoed down the tunnel, but it was so distorted by distance and repetition and her own distraction that she couldn't tell who was calling her. She went on.

_Ninth day she grins and devours her kin._

She could hear the footfalls behind her as her companions raced to catch up. Out of the corner of her eye she thought she saw something, or perhaps someone. A figure, shorter than she, but whether genlock or dwarf, she couldn't tell. It didn't try to attack her though. Faleni turned her head to get a closer look, but the figure vanished, leaving only a whisper in it's wake.

_Now she does feast, as she's become the beast._  
_Now you lay and wait, for their screams will haunt you in your dreams._

A wet, gurgling growl reached the elf's sensitive ears and she turned. Somehow she hadn't realized the tunnel had opened up; Faleni found herself at the mouth of a very large cavern. A cavern that glistened and undulated as if it were alive. At the center of it all was the most hideous creature that Faleni had ever seen. A giant, fleshy monstrosity, with more teats than a wolf bitch. The face could have almost been that of a person, but it was grotesquely distorted. There were tentacles. Big, waving whips of pale flesh of the kind that would haunt her for the rest of her life. Somewhere, deep in her tainted soul, the part of her that listened and dreamed of the Archdemon, somewhere a part of her knew what this creature was.

_First day, they come and catch everyone_

There was a mad giggling behind her. That song - it was a warning. Of what could be. Of what will be.

If she didn't stop it.

The haze in her mind burned away, leaving her senses clear and sharp. Faleni knew; this would be the result of giving into her nightmares and there was no way she was going to let that happen. She may have a tainted soul, but she would not let the Archdemon corrupt her further. She would not let anyone; herself, her friends, anyone on Thedas become this. Not if she could help it.

Even before she came down to the Deep Roads, Faleni had been ambivalent about her role as Gray Warden, her purpose in the battle to come. Perhaps that was what made her so vulnerable to the siren call of the Archdemon in the first place. No longer. She knew what she had to do now; the Archdemon had to die. She vowed to make it regret every dream of hers that he crept into.

But first, she had this monster to put out of it's misery.

"Oh shit." She heard Zevran say in awe behind her. Faleni grinned, a wicked and determined look in her blue eyes.

"Let's kill this bitch."


	4. Closing Time

_So the next one to come across my playlist is **Closing Time (Semisonic)**. I love this song, and thought it would be fun to do a story from the perspective of someone who never really gets their story told, and that's the bartender of the Hanged Man, Corff. Set roughly during Act II of DAII, with Diana Hawke and her friends being their usual charming selves. _

* * *

They were still here. Of course they were still here; on nights like this it seemed they never left. Corff glared at the large group taking over several of the tables in the corner. They were loud, they often forgot to pay for their drinks, and they would stay up talking until the wee hours of the morning, hours where he himself would prefer to get some shut eye. He couldn't, because at least one of the group was a known thief. Several more were probably also thieves but less well-known – which was actually worse. Even the ones who weren't thieves were prone to freely helping themselves from his taps. Especially that chatty dwarf.

Corff despised Hawke and her cronies. The only reason he let them stick around was because of their reputation; one was an exiled prince, one was the Captain of the Guard, one was said to be either a Gray Warden or an apostate (some rumors even suggested he was both which he thought was a little excessive) and all of them were extremely dangerous. The bartender liked having all of his parts intact. He didn't have to like them, though.

Especially tonight. Corff had a 'date' planned for tonight at the Blooming Rose. He'd even paid extra to make sure the whore he wanted was available. He thought he was safe; most of his regulars left early, and he hadn't seen Diana Hawke's gang for a couple of weeks. Then, just as he was about to close up, they came in covered in blood and nearly shouting at the top of their lungs about some adventure or another. They had pulled together a bunch of tables, poured themselves some pitchers, and hunkered down. That had been five hours ago and they showed no signs of leaving. He was about at the end of his rope.

Rope. He had put down extra money for rope too.

That was it. He had to get them out of there.

"Closing time!" He said loudly. The table in the corner went silent, and he felt eight pairs of eyes staring at him. He gritted his teeth and stared straight back.

"Excuse me?" Varric said, standing up from his chair. "What did you just say?"

"I said it's closing time. Everyone has to finish up their drink and leave." Hawke and her friends looked at each other, confused by this unexpected turn of events.

"Since when does the Hanged Man close?" The pretty dark-haired elf girl asked.

"Never in my experience, kitten." Isabela the so-called pirate stared at the bartender balefully. Corff returned her gaze, unfazed.

"You people haven't been in for awhile. It's a new policy." Very new, as of roughly twenty seconds ago. There was silence and then the group as one looked to Diana Hawke leaning languidly against a wall. Corff felt himself blush with anger. This was his tavern, they should be respecting him, but instead they all looked to that trumped up mabari-raised bitch. Diana, for her part, seemed to be just as bewildered.

"What are you all looking at me for?"

"What do you think, Hawke?" Varric asked. "It's your party, and your gold we're spending." Corff could only snort. The idea that they would actually pay was funny to him. Diana pushed herself up from the wall and strolled over to the bar. She tilted her head and stared at him with scrutinizing green eyes.

"Why did you start closing down the bar? Seems to me like you'd lose a lot of money." She said slowly. Corff gulped. Those eyes looked like they could see all the way through his soul. A small bag slid across the bar his way. Gold. They were actually going to pay him. For a moment he considered taking it. No. Knowing them it was only a few silver pieces, barely enough to cover their outstanding tab, let alone recoup his lost deposit.

"Personal reasons." He said gruffly. "None of your business, actually. Now why don't you scram before I sic the guard on you?"

"You mean me?" The big redhead in the corner said. Right, he had forgotten that Diana was friends with the Captain. Just his luck. He took a deep breath and steeled himself. This was likely going to get ugly. But he didn't have a choice. He had already put the money down.

"Look, all of you. Intimidate me all you want, but this bar is going to close down for a couple of hours. I don't particularly care where you go, but you can't stay here." He pointed towards the door. "Leave."

"Now come on," the pirate said smoothly. "Is that any way to treat your best customers?" Suddenly it seemed like all of them were surrounding him. No weapons out, but then again, with eight on one, they didn't need weapons.

He wanted to laugh in their faces. He wanted to make some snarky comment. He wanted to be able to throw them all out on their asses. He did none of those things.

"Please?" He asked meekly, hating himself for appearing so weak. "It'll just be for a little while." The group didn't move. Desperate, he threw out one last solution. "Look, I'll throw in a bottle of my finest whiskey."

That decided them. Smiles broke out, as well as some happy chattering.

"Can never go wrong with whiskey!"

"Where shall we go?"

"How about up to your suite Varric? It's only up the stairs."

"Won't fit the lot of us. How about Fenris's place?"

"Oh, that place is such a dump. No offense Fenris."

"None taken, not my mess."

"Yeah, but you've never bothered to clean it."

"Hey, let's just go to my mansion!"

"Won't your neighbors complain?"

"They do anyway. Who cares?"

"What about Leandra?"

"She loves having you over, don't worry about it."

"To Hawke's!"

The entire group slowly filed out of the Hanged Man, and all was quiet once more. Corff exhaled, not realizing he had been holding his breath the entire time. He did it. He successfully got them to leave. Sure, it meant giving up a whiskey bottle (or three, but he hadn't seen the pirate go behind him to steal more bottles) but who cared? There was a whore and a room waiting for him at the Rose.

Close the Hanged Man. What a delightful feeling. He should do it more often.


	5. Time After Time

_**A/N:** Next on the iPod Shuffle playlist is **Time After Time (Cyndi Lauper)**_ _A beautiful song, and one that I can listen to over and over again. I also love that it doesn't have to be a love song. I mean, it is, but it's not necessarily about romantic love. I always thought one of the best things about DAII was the relationship between Hawke and his/her siblings, and it just seemed to fit with this song.__  
_

* * *

She couldn't sleep. It was late, she knew that. Too late for her to still be awake and dawn was still a long ways away. Sleep would be the smart thing, and yet Diana was wide awake and thinking of Bethany.

Her sister. Stuck in the Circle, learning to be a 'proper' mage. Leandra never said anything, but she knew her mother blamed herself for it, but that was wrong. It was Diana's fault. Her father had entrusted her with Bethany's safety and she had failed him. If she had taken Bethany into the Deep Roads with her, this might not have happened. But what else could she have done? Leandra begged Diana not to take her for fear of losing both her children in one fell swoop and Diana couldn't fault her logic. And who knew what might have happened in the Deep Roads? Something much worse than Bethany getting kidnapped by the Templars, possibly. At least her sister was still alive.

She hoped.

Still, she couldn't help feeling responsible. Bethany was her little sister, and the only sibling she had left after Carver died. She'd always taken care of her. She remembered watching her run to catch up to her twin, only to get tripped up by her skirts. She'd fall and scrape her knees, and it would be up to Diana to make her feel better. She remembered feeling jealous of the bond that the twins shared; how she was always on the outside, watching and protecting them so nothing could break their bubble. She remembered the years of running to avoid discovery when Bethany was unable to control her power. But that was all in the past. Bethany was an adult and Diana couldn't protect her anymore, couldn't even see her anymore.

Or could she?

Why couldn't she? She was a rogue after all. She could sneak in and out of anything. It's not like she was going to get any sleep tonight anyway.

Diana opened up the window and scaled down the wall. It was stupid; she could just has easily have left through the front door, but she couldn't forget that her mother was just in the next room and old habits died hard. She landed lightly on her feet and took off running towards the Gallows.

They weren't easy to get to, nearly across town and downhill all the way. It was a fortress, and they didn't like visitors. Luckily, there were a few people there who owed Diana favors.

"Hawke!" Ser Cullen whispered urgently as she came to the front gate. "What are you doing here at this time of night?"

"Errand for the Knight-Commander." She replied promptly. Ser Cullen looked skeptical, but Diana didn't budge. Finally the man sighed.

"Alright. But be quick about it. It's awfully late." Diana bowed mockingly and slithered past him. Aware that the templar's eyes were still on her, she walked straight towards the building where the Templar Order stayed, never straying, never looking back. It was only when she heard the click of heels on the pavement that she slunk into the nearest bank of shadows and crept towards the Circle of Magi. Diana looked up at the wall in front of her.

It would be too easy, except for one thing. She had no idea where Bethany's room was.

Oh well. She was already here. Might as well go for it.

The old stones offered plenty of purchase for her hands and feet and she quickly made her way to the second level of windows. She started peeking in, trying to get a glimpse of the dark brunette hair of her sisters. Everything was dark which made it that much harder.

"Bethany..." She whispered harshly into one window. "Bethany!" No answer, except for a disgruntled moan and rustling of the sheets. She held still for a moment, but when no other sign came, she moved on. This was going to take a while.

Diana checked five windows, all that seemed to hold a female mage with dark hair, but so far no dice. She looked inside a sixth.

"Betha... OW!" She said, as something hit her square on the top of her head. She looked wildly around. Nothing. Diana snorted in frustration and looked back in the window. "OW!" she shouted as something else hit her noggin. This time she looked up. From a window above her was the irritated face of her baby sister. "Bethany!" She whispered cheerfully and started making her way up the wall. Bethany's dark eyes grew wide with fear.

"Don't come any... wait... Diana?" She asked, confused. "What are you doing here?" Diana was to busy trying not to lose her grip. With much huffing and puffing, she pulled herself through her sister's window and fell to the floor on her back. Bethany stood above her, arms folded and foot tapping. The rogue Hawke merely grinned.

"Hi sis. It's good to see you."

"You too. What are you doing here?"

"What, I can't drop in and pay a visit to my little sister?"

"No. Especially not in the middle of the night. Maker, Diana, you could have been caught, and then we'd both be in trouble!"

"You mean like old times?" With a grunt, Diana pushed herself up to a sitting, cross-legged position. Bethany rolled her eyes and plopped down on the single tiny bed in the room. "Besides, you know me. I never get caught."

"Uh-huh. Seriously Diana..."

"Seriously? I couldn't sleep. And... I was wondering how you were." Diana bit her lip, suddenly nervous. She had done a really stupid thing. But Bethany smiled. It was a sad smile though, not reaching all the way to her eyes.

"How I am? I'm fine, sis."

"They treating you alright here? Because you know I'll come and beat them all up if they aren't." Diana glowered. Bethany laughed at her sister's attempt at a fierce face.

"I'm fine! Honestly. I'm actually learning a lot here. They don't treat me too badly anyway. At least, no worse than anyone else, for all that I came here much later than most. Are you alright?"

"Sure, I'm peachy. I've got insomnia, the entirety of Kirkwall on my shoulders for no apparent reason, and a sister who I let get locked up in some fortress."

"You're not blaming yourself for this are you?"

"And what if I am? Beth, if I'd only listened to you and not mother..."

"Then I'd probably be dead." The younger girl sighed as the elder snapped her head up in horror. "Look, I was mad at you when you said I couldn't come. I wanted to help, and I was tired of you holding me back. I started helping at Ander's clinic, and I guess I got careless. And for awhile I was even madder than before. But then I heard about your adventures down there..." Bethany shuddered. "I'm glad I didn't go. I didn't want to join the Circle, but now that I'm here... it's not so bad. Really. Don't feel bad for me." Bethany put a hand on her sister's shoulder. It was soft and smooth. So different from Diana's callused palms. Both girls looked out the window.

"It's almost dawn." Diana said softly.

"Then you should probably go. The templars will come and check on me."

"I'll kill them if they try anything with my baby sister." They looked at each other and laughed. Diana stopped first. "Bethany?"

"Yeah?"

"You know if anything happens...?"

"I know. Same for you."

"I know." The rogue stood up, and stuck one leg out the window, attempting to get out. She paused as she was just about to swing the other leg through. "Hey! I wasn't being that loud. How'd I manage to wake you up and not everyone else? And why did you throw stuff at me?"

"I didn't realize it was you. I just heard my name being called. And besides. Do you think you were the only person who couldn't sleep last night?" Bethany smiled that same sad smile; in the pale light of dawn however, Diana couldn't see her sister's eyes. The incorrigible rogue grinned.

"See you later Bethany." And with that, the elder Hawke daughter was gone and Bethany was alone once more.

"Later."


	6. What I Like About You

_Why are all songs about romance? I swear, even the stories I wrote for this that AREN'T love stories (or out-of-love stories) are based on songs about it. And here's another one. **What I Like About You (The Romantics).** At least it's upbeat. So for this song I basically just said eneey-meeny-miney-mo and ended up with Aveline and Donnic in a very domestic scene. _

* * *

_Just a little while longer,_ she had said. Aveline could hear herself saying the words to Donnic as he waited patiently for her in her office. She had told him to go on home and she would catch up to him soon. Soon. Who was she kidding?

Well, it would have been faster, but of course Hawke had come to visit, needing a favor. Funny that the Champion of Kirkwall still needed to ask favors from her, but there it was. Aveline couldn't just say 'no', she owed the rogue too much. Besides, it was nice to know Hawke considered her a friend, and given who else the irrepressible girl was prone to hanging out with, Aveline felt it was her responsibility to provide Hawke with some stability and sanity. However, it did mean that 'soon' had turned into the far worse, 'much much later'.

Donnic was going to kill her.

With great trepidation, she opened the door to their apartment. Really, it was her's; the privilege of being Captain of the Guard, but until she married Donnic, it has always felt like it was missing something. He filled the emptiness. Aveline could almost hear Isabela sniggering at that one. The wooden door creaked on it's hinges and Aveline was reminded that she had promised to get oil for it, two weeks ago. There was no other noise in the darkened hallway.

"Donnic?" Her voice echoed slightly, but there was no response. A crease formed on her brow. Where was her husband? He couldn't really be that mad, could he? "Donnic?"

She walked down the hallway, her steel boots clanging on the wooden floor. She cringed at the sound; it was louder than it should be. Every room she passed was dark, empty, and cold. Aveline bit her lip. She had really messed up big time. She knew how much she hated it when people didn't keep their promises. She could only imagine how Donnic felt. Still, there was nothing to be done about it now. Aveline sighed and started to take off pieces of her armor as she headed into the bedroom. It was dark in there too. She tossed one battered gauntlet onto the bed in order so she could start removing the larger pieces.

There was a muffled yelp from the bed.

"Donnic?" She cried, relieved.

"Aveline?" Came a murmur from under the covers. "Are you home? Why haven't you put on a light?" She had clearly been paranoid. She was late, they had had a long day, of course he had gone to bed.

"Sorry, love. Didn't think about it." She struck up a match and lit the bedside lantern. She let out a small gasp.

On the table was a tray holding food. Steak, potatoes, cooked greens. A pint of amber liquid. He had made her supper, and left it for her. Aveline's green eyes met Donnic's warm brown ones. He sat up in bed, revealing a bare chest.

"Thought you might be hungry when you got home." He grinned. "Hawke problems?"

"What else? I swear by the Maker, one of these days..." Aveline paused to take a bite of potato. Soft, fluffly and buttery. He was a much better cook than she was.

"One of these days she'll need my help as well as yours." Donnic rumbled. She could feel his hands unbuckle her armor. She moved onto the steak. Pink and ever so slightly bloody, just the way she liked it. Aveline moaned.

"Why are you so good to me?" Her chestpiece fell to the floor with a clang. His rough, callused hands moved up to her shoulders and started to knead gently. "I'm awful. Always late, always working, and my friends... oh, Maker don't stop..." She groaned as he worked out a particularly nasty knot in her neck, sending shivers racing down her back.

"Oh I don't know. Maybe because you're smart, strong and incredibly sexy?" Donnic's talented and busy fingers moved downward, slowly, heading towards the buckle of her leggings. Aveline felt something soft and moist flutter against her collar bone. Food all but forgotten, she turned around to face him. His chest wasn't the only thing that was bare. "Or maybe because your mage friend put a spell on me and ruined me for all other women?" His grin was wolfish as he continued to undo her armor.

"Jackass." She kissed him hard on the mouth, then shoved him playfully back onto the bed, and sat down on the edge. He had loosened things up, but she still had to pull off the steel leggings. "I truly am sorry. I didn't mean to stay so late." Strong arms encircled her waist and Donnic's face came into her peripheral vision. His hair smelled slightly floral; he must have washed up.

"Don't be sorry, love. I'm a big boy. I can handle the wait. Although it does get awfully cold in here." He kissed her neck, and the last piece of armor clattered to the ground.

"Well, I think I can help with that at least."

"How did I get so lucky?"

Aveline smiled. She knew there was a reason why she liked Donnic. Tonight, she was going to prove it.


	7. Come Dance With Me

_**A/N: **You know what there isn't enough of in Origins? Fun. Seriously. Everyone's worried about the Blight and Loghain taking over Ferelden and I guess that's important. But people can't be on edge all the time. So when the song **Come Dance With Me (Frank Sinatra) **came up, it was a sure bet as to how I was going to play this._

* * *

Faleni idly poked the fire with a stick and sighed. The others heard the noise and looked up with interest, only to droop immediately when it became apparent that nothing new was happening. They had been on the road for four days, and it had been the most uneventful four days since they started traveling together. No darkspawn, no bandits, no villagers calling for help, no soldiers trying to collect a bounty on them. The group following the Gray Wardens didn't know what to do with themselves.

Poke the fire, apparently.

"Agh. This is boring. We should do something." Oghren grumbled.

"Like what? It's too late to go anywhere, you've drunk all the booze, and Wynne won't do any more magic tricks." Alistair replied. He looked particularly crestfallen at the last one. Faleni reached out and patted him on the shoulder. Zevren looked at the two of them oddly.

"I could play a song." Leliana volunteered. Groans were heard all around the campfire, and even as far away as Morrigan's tent. "What?"

"Look, my beautiful bard, you play very well, and have a lovely singing voice, but well... it's just that..." Zevren looked helplessly around the campfire, hoping that someone else would say what he didn't want to.

"We've all listened to more than we could possibly stand." All heads turned to see Morrigan moving through the shadows to the main campfire. Everyone looked shocked; the Witch of the Wilds never came near the main camp. The witch stalked over and planted herself next to the Qunari, the only one who paid her no mind. "If I never hear another Orlesian ballad again, 'twill be too soon."

"What if it's not a ballad?"

"You can play something other than tripe?" Morrigan looked skeptical. For that matter, so did everyone else.

Leliana scrunched up her face and stuck out her tongue, and immediately started to pluck at her lute. She tapped her foot, keeping a steady beat going while her fingers coaxed some semblance of a melody out of her lute.

It definitely wasn't a ballad.

The song was far more folksy than they were used to hearing from the bard; the melody was clear and relatively simple sounding, but done at such a speed as to leave them dizzy just listening to it. Leliana didn't linger too long on any one note, but the deep belly of the lute made them resonate anyway; reverberating loudly around the campfire, and bouncing off the trees from the nearby forest. The Dalish Warden grinned.

"I may not know your culture well, but I know a song to dance to when I hear it." She stood up and reached her hand out to Alistair. "Dance with me." She said in a tone that brooked no argument.

"What?" Alistair seemed baffled and scared.

"Dance with me!"

"But I can't..." The elf rolled her eyes and grabbed her fellow Warden's hands, yanking him up despite his protests. Faleni swung him in a circle; causing Alistair to trip over his feet. The elf giggled.

"Come on! Just follow what I do." She bowed and it took the other Warden a moment to realize he should bow as well. She lifted one pale, slender hand and Alistair met her palm to palm, his own large hand nearly engulfing hers. She moved one foot backwards, than another, drawing Alistair towards her.

"Hey look, I'm actually dancing!" He crowed. The others were watching with varying levels of interest, but Zevran in particular had a mischievous glimmer in his eye. Moving smoothly and quietly as only an assassin could, he went to Wynne's side and held out a hand.

"Care to dance, my darling Wynne?" He smiled. The old mage looked from hand to Zevran's face but saw only sincerity, not mockery. With grace befitting her age, she stood and the odd pair, elf and mage, joined the Wardens in the merriment. Oghren guffawed, and grabbed Morrigan by the waist.

"You too, lass! We're not going to miss this." The dwarf manhandled the Witch of the Wilds closer to the other dancers, and despite his short stature, managed to fling around the sneering Morrigan with ease.

"Stop this at once, you foul-smelling oaf!" Neither Oghren nor the other dancers paid her any mind; they continued to whirl about to the jaunty, folksy tune coming from Leliana's lute. Faleni circled around Alistair and caught up with Morrigan on the other side. She took the other woman's hands and swung her into Alistair's arms, leaving the elf free to skip over to Oghren. Alistair and Morrigan couldn't get rid of each other fast enough; Alistair practically fell into Wynne trying to get away from the swamp witch, and Morrigan tried to leave the circle, only to be stopped by the Crow.

Leliana sped up the tempo of her song as the dancers found themselves weaving around each other like maypole dancers. It was strangely mesmerizing, like a spell meant to distract, disorient, and confuse. Even the ever stoic Qunari had to shake his head and remind himself to keep a lookout for danger. The dancers were laughing and smiling, even as they trod on each other's feet and tried to knock each other into the fire. Only Morrigan looked less than pleased, but she hadn't yet extracted herself from the group.

Alistair ended up being the one to make the whole thing come crashing down. His foot collided with Wynne's knee, sending her sprawling. The unexpected impediment in his path also sent the Warden himself flailing towards Leliana. The bard's fingers fumbled, creating a discordant twang that sent Barkspawn howling. All the music stopped, and so did the dancers.

Except for one. When the song ended, Zevran and Faleni found themselves facing one another. Zevran's hazel eyes shown copper in the firelight, and Faleni's blue grew stormy. In the silence that followed, Zevran slowly moved into a fighting stance, his arms held outward as if he was holding knives. Without a word spoken between them, the Dalish girl mirrored him. He stepped forward, his arm shooting out towards her neck. Faleni's reaction was immediate, stepping backwards and grabbing his arm to block. He grabbed her wrist and jerked it upwards, sending her spinning. She finished her spin by crouching low and kicking out her leg, an attempt to sweep him off his feet. The Crow was too fast for her; barrel-leaping over her outstretched foot. Thus began their duel; part combat, part dance, entirely art.

The rest of the party looked on. Leliana recovered from her fumbling, and started to play softly on the lute, matching her fingerings to their movement. The two elves didn't seem to notice; they watched each others' eyes and nothing else. They were well matched in their dance; light and graceful on their feet. Zevran moved like water from one form to the next, easy and smooth. Faleni was all fire; steadily burning one moment and flickering sparks the next. She spun and twisted out of his grasp, turning away only to find the assassin had flowed into her path. Both wore slight, cocky smiles, confident in their ability and enjoying the dance between equals.

One man was not smiling. Alistair watched the pair like the others, but his jaw was tight with suppressed anger. Whispers had floated about camp that something had happened between the two elves though neither one would admit to it. Zevran had been teaching Faleni of the Crow methods, but Alistair was starting to think that there was more to it than that. Watching the way they danced, the way they looked at each other wasn't helping his suspicions.

Faleni and Zevran had started stalking each other in a spiral pattern that brought them closer and closer together. When they were within arm's length of each other, they sprung, like snakes going in for the kill. Faleni leaped, Zevran caught her around the waist, holding her up in his surprisingly strong arms. She wrapped her legs around him as he slammed her back on the ground. There was a gasp from Wynne and a surprised grunt from the dwarf, but Faleni appeared to be unharmed. Indeed, her hands snuck up to Zevran's face and they grinned at each other. Leliana let the last chord fade out into the night.

Alistair had had enough. As soon as Faleni's back hit the dirt, he was gone, retreating to his tent where he didn't have to see the look on her face as she stared up at the other elf. No one noticed the warrior leave. From the safety of his tent, he could hear the laughing and the clapping as well as a few derisive comments from the resident spoilsports. He felt torn. He loved Faleni and was certain that she loved him, but there would always be vast chasms of differences between them. She was elf, he was human. She was Dalish, he was templar. She was wild, he was royalty. She was quick and fast and he? He couldn't dance.


	8. Mr Jones

_At first, I thought this was going to be the most difficult one. After all there's nobody in DA named **Mr. Jones (Counting**_** Crows)**. _But then as I listened to the song, I got a vision in my head of Hawke and Varric sitting in the Hanged Man, drinking and shooting the shit. This is the result; enjoy!_

* * *

"So there I was, Hawke, just minding my own business, and would you believe this lyrium-addled tin can just charged at me? I mean, do I look like an elf?" Varric guffawed loudly, making everyone in the Hanged Man turn to look at the loud dwarf and his human companion who happened to be laughing just as hard.

"And you wonder why you can't sell any of your stories, dwarf. Even a mabari wouldn't believe that bullshit." Diana Hawke said after she stopped snorting. The two of them were supposed to be here to talk about how to earn enough money to join the Deep Roads expedition, but, as per usual, the discussion devolved into seeing who could tell the tallest tale and drinking away what little money they did have. Diana felt bad about it, as she knew her mother and sister were tired of living under Gamlen's roof, but the prospects in Kirkwall were dead (in some cases, literally) and there wasn't much call for a couple of rogues, at least not at the moment.

"Of course a mabari wouldn't, but you wouldn't believe the people who would buy it. Have you seen the guards around here? Except for Aveline, they're all dumber than nugs on a spit." Varric signaled to the bartender to bring them another round, which was done with great reluctance. Given the leanness of their pockets, it was hard to blame them.

"Oh yeah? Then why are you and I still so damn poor?"

"Ha ha, Hawke. Just you wait. I'm writing about you next, and then I'll be richer than the Viscount."

"If you do that, I better see a cut."

"You'll be immortalized in story and song forever. Isn't that payment enough?"

"Literary immortality doesn't put coin in my purse or drink in my belly." Diana took a long swig of her ale to emphasis her point.

"Fine. I'll give you seven percent."

"Seven percent?! Why you dirty..." The dark-haired rogue could have continued at length about what she thought of the dwarf, his character, his family, his sexual proclivities, and of course what he could do with his measly seven percent, but a new face entering into the Hanged Man distracted her to the point where she trailed off without finishing her litany. Her blue eyes glazed over, and Varric, confused by uncharacteristic silence and stunned look on her face, turned to see what she was staring at.

The woman who entered the Hanged Man didn't look like she came from Kirkwall at all. Nor did she resemble the Ferelden refugees who occasionally frequented the Hanged Man. Dark-skinned, dark haired, wearing a lot of gold jewelry and a white shift that only barely saved her from complete indecency, she looked like she belonged in the Blooming Rose rather than the Hanged Man. That is, if it wasn't for the two deadly-daggers she carried on her back.

"Well now, there's something you don't see every day." Varric commented mildy.

"Definitely not." Diana agreed. "Who do you think she is?" The dwarf only shrugged.

"Not a clue. Rivaini maybe? She has that look about her. Why do you care?"

Diana shrugged, and turned back to the bar, sipping carefully on her drink and resolutely ignoring the new patron. There was no reason for her curiousity; other than her finely honed instinct for noticing things that seemed out of place. Though the woman moved with ease through the tavern like she'd spent half her life here, she definitely was different than anything Diana Hawke had seen before. That was enough to peak her interest, or so she figured.

"Oh, I think Hawke has a crush." Varric laughed and pounded the human on the back. Reflex took over; Diana spun and caught the dwarf's wrist with her hand.

"What did you say?" Her unspoken threat didn't phase the other rogue at all.

"I said you should go ask her yourself. I didn't think you were a chicken, Hawke."

"I'm not chicken. She's just not the usual riff-raff, that's all. Just a little curious, but I don't actually give a shit."

"Uh-huh, sure." Varric muttered noncommittally. "At any rate, next round's on you."

"Oh yeah? Why are you so concerned about who's pay, Ser Soon-to-be-rich storyteller?" Diana looked down the bar for the bartender anyway; her drink was getting low. She caught a glimpse of the newcomer who had come around to the other side while the two rogues were talking. She slid a few coins to the bartender, who passed her a drink. She picked it up, downed it, and slammed the glass back on the bar. She waved her hand for another, but the bartender had already moved back toward Diana. Her brown eyes caught the rogue's blue ones and Diana saw a ghost of a smirk on the woman's full lips. One eyelid lowered in an impish wink. Diana felt a sharp nudge in her side.

"I think she like you, Hawke."

"Oh, please."

"What? It's a tale as old as time! A dark and mysterious woman enters a bar and falls instantly in love with the equally mysterious woman with a very handsome dwarf friend."

"Why do you assume it's me she likes the look of? After all, you are my handsome dwarf friend."

"Ah, but see, that way lies tragedy; this dwarf's heart only belongs to one. Besides, girl on girl sells better."

"I don't even want to think about how you know that."

Just then, three men came up to the Rivaini woman, and started speaking to her in low, angry voices. The woman didn't look overly concerned, she just continued to sip at her drink. The one doing most of the talking got red in the face, and his voice became louder, also to little effect. People all over the Hanged Man were starting to watch now; it was quieter than normal in the tavern and such noise stood out. The apoplectic man grabbed the dark woman's shoulder. Which proved to be a huge mistake on his part.

The woman was fast; before the man could do anything, she had whirled around and slammed mug she'd been holding over his head. He lost his grip on her arm and she reached back to grab one of her daggers. The other two men were on top of her before she could unsheathe one, but she was still struggling and kicking. They managed to haul her off the stool by kicking it out from under her, still holding her arms pinned down. She scrambled to find her footing, but the two men holding her were tall, and she was nearly held off of the floor.

Now the entire tavern was watching. Brawls weren't uncommon, but three men against one woman was, and the patrons of the Hanged Man always liked entertainment. No one lifted a finger to help her, but that also wasn't uncommon. Most were waiting to see what happened next, and no few of them were watching to see if the woman's already scanty attire would be completely destroyed. The bartender had disappeared, likely cowering behind the bar.

Apparently the fight wasn't over yet. Like a snake, the woman whipped her head back, conking the man behind her in the nose. He howled and put his hands to his nose which now spurted with blood. With equal swifness, she aimed a kick at the blonde man in front of her, catching him in the groin. He staggered back a few feet into a table. She advanced on him, drawing her daggers as she did so. The man was busy groaning and wheezing, and didn't notice her bringing both pommels down on top of his head, knocking him unconscious. She spun, and the man with bleeding nose looked at her with fear in his eyes.

"Do you really want to die for this?" She asked. The man looked like he was about to piss himself, turned and ran out the door. She laughed, a light, musical chuckle, then bellied up to the bar once more, shoving aside one of her comatose attackers with little regard.

"Okay. I'm impressed." Varric said.

"You said it, dwarf." Diana watched as the woman, not seeing the bartender, reached over and grabbed a dark bottle, half full of some undetermined liquid. To the surprise of the rogues, she sauntered over to them and offered the bottle with a smile.

"Hello. My name is Isabela."


	9. Eleanor Rigby

_This one's a bit different in style, due in no small part to the song itself - **Eleanor Rigby (The Beatles). **It's an odd and sad song, but it did make me think about the rag-tag group of adventurers we deal with in Dragon Age; most of them come from a place of lonliness, ostracism, and pain, and yet somehow they found a way to become heroes. Even the one who you expect it from the least. _

* * *

_Faleni Mahariel. Tainted by an evil mirror. Lost her best friend to the same mirror. Ripped from friends and family in order to save her; only to be thrust into the middle of a war she wanted no part of, protecting people who wanted no part of her._

_Alistair. Bastard son of a king and a servant woman. Raised by his uncle, until his aunt got scared and threw him to the Templar Order. Trained as one of them despite his ambivalence. Recruited as a Grey Warden, then watched all but one of them die, and that one was a strange Dalish elf he'd never met._

_Morrigan. Presumed daughter of a powerful and ancient witch. A wild creature, had little interaction with the world at large. An apostate in the wilderness. Shoved unceremoniously out of her home by her mother and made to travel in a world she had only studied, never lived in, with people who did not trust her. Found out her mother's intentions were even darker than she could imagine._

_Leliana. Lost her mother early in life, was brought up to be a useless decoration in Orlesian society. Fell in love with a bard, was betrayed. Took refuge in the Chantry, but was ostracized for her beliefs. Left to resume a life of death and pain._

_Sten. Separated from home, separated from soul, the strangest of strangers in a strange land. Sentenced to die; among people who knew nothing of him or his culture. Sten is not his name, it is what he is. _

_Zevran Arainai. An orphan in a whorehouse, raised from an early age to be a tool for hire. A reviled elf, sent to do a job far away from home. Failure means his death._

_Shale. A singular kind of creature. Identity stripped away centuries ago, with no memory of who or what she was before she became living stone. Stuck frozen in a small village for thirty years. Awakened recently. . _

_Wynne. A mage, a healer. Elderly. No known family. Servant of the Circle._

_Oghren of House Branka. His wife left him, his weapons were taken from him. Stripped of honor, stripped of dignity. Now that he's on the surface, he's no longer even considered one of his people._

Loghain looked at the latest intelligence report from those in the field. He had sent spies to search for the Grey Wardens and gather information on them. It was always best to know one's enemies well if one wanted to defeat them. There were pages and pages of information, but the top sheet contained only this bare summary.

These were the people he was up against? These were the ones who defeated everything he had thrown at them up to this point? These were outcasts; people who weren't wanted, weren't desired by any society. Between them they had almost no family, no friends, no one that Loghain could use against them. Only the elder mage woman seemed at all well-adjusted, and even then an in-depth report suggested that there was more to her than met the eye.

How did all of these people find each other? And what made them so effective? They should have beaten down by now, dead, perished, forgotten and mourned by no one. But they weren't. They lived, and they succeeded, driving ever closer to Loghain and Denerim. He stared at the pages, trying to make sense of it all. The Teyrn's heavy brow furrowed. It was clear his spy found much to admire in this rag-tag group, which did not please him. The spy spoke of their opposing beliefs, their opposing loyalties, even their varying levels of dedication to the cause. They didn't even seem to get along together all that well, or at least most of them didn't. So why did they stick together?

Loghain read, and reread the report. Food was delivered and ignored. The sun grew high in the sky and then dipped back down, unnoticed. Finally, there came a point where he could read no more. He balled up the report and with a growl, tossed it across the room. Just then the door opened and the ball hit the person coming through it.

"Having problems, father?" Anora asked, looking more annoyed than hurt. He merely grunted, and rubbed his eyes with his hands. She sighed and picked up the projectile. With her smooth hands she unfurled it and read the summary for a long moment. "What truly lonely people these are. No wonder they're giving you so much trouble."

"What? Why?" Loghain looked at his daughter, confused. She glanced up from the paper, her eyes filled with sadness.

"They have nothing to lose, of course. And everything to gain. You should know that better than anyone, father. There is no end to the lengths people will go in order to feel like they have a purpose, like they belong in this world."

"Why would you think I would know that better than anyone?" He asked. She merely gave him a measured, judging stare in return.

"Good night father. Get some sleep." Was all she said before turning and walking out the door. She had dropped the report, and Loghain watched as it floated gently to the ground. What was his daughter talking about?


End file.
